Court of Petty Appeals: Halloqueen(s) v. IX Art Park Furries
Halloqueen(s)
v.
IX Art Park Furries
78 U.Va 9 (2025)
Demitry, C.J., delivers the opinion of the Court, in which Wu, Vanger, Becker, and Kaufmann, J.J. join.
Berklich, J., dissents.
Demitry, C. J., delivers the opinion of the Court.
I.
For the law school’s entire relevant history (the two and a half years that I have attended), Halloqueen—the Student Bar Association’s (SBA) annual costume gala and descent into legally sanctioned chaos and lingerie—has been held at IX Art Park (IX) on October 31, by contract both express and implied (and, according to one 3L, “oral, written, and sacred”). The arrangement—enshrined in successive contracts, confirmed through performance, and consecrated by generations of bar tabs and shitty “clever” 1L costumes—guaranteed the SBA use of IX on October 31 each year.
This year, however, IX Art Park unilaterally breached that venerable arrangement. Without warning or notice, IX announced that Halloween night was now reserved for a “Fantasy Festival”—an event described as “a celebration of anthropomorphic art,” but which this Court understands to mean grown adults in cat suits grinding to the Stranger Things theme song. Hereafter it shall be referred to as “Furry Fest” in light of this Justice’s experience dropping by the event last year.
IX offered the SBA the week before Halloween, a date students promptly rejected as “not canonically spooky.” The SBA brought suit, alleging breach of contract, breach of implied covenant of good faith and fair dealing, and cruel and unusual punishment. The trial court ruled for the SBA. IX appealed.
II.
A. The Contract
The contract between the SBA and IX was established through a course of dealing and mutual intoxicated assent over at least five consecutive years. Each party received consideration: the SBA got a venue with lighting and a liquor license; IX got several hundred law students buying drinks and not tipping, and providing free ambiance in the form of glitter and dressing up as “Sexy Res Ipsa Loquitur.”
By every standard of Restatement (Second) of Contracts § 24 et seq., this was a binding agreement. IX’s attempt to substitute a furry-forward fantasy event for a law-student bacchanal is not a modification but a repudiation, pure and simple. To quote Hadley v. Baxendale (1854), “if you screw up the party, you pay the damages.”
B. Breach
The elements of breach are:
A valid contract,
Performance by plaintiff,
Breach by defendant, and
Tears of 3Ls who planned their last Halloqueen outfit around the 31st.
The SBA performed in full: they marketed, secured the traditional $17 bar tab, and sent five increasingly desperate emails to Dean Kendrick for budget approval. IX, meanwhile, performed a bait and switch worthy of the coming AI bubble securities fraud indictments. They cancelled the SBA’s slot and replaced it with a “fantasy festival” whose main theme appears to be Renaissance Faire meets OnlyFans—a place where elves, wizards, and Ludwig Kuttner’s tax attorney all pretend magic is real.
Even under the most generous reading of U.C.C. § 2-209, IX’s behavior fails. A modification requires mutual assent; IX instead offered a unilateral ultimatum: “Move your date or be moved.” As Justice Cardozo warned, “I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger . . .” yet IX attempted exactly that, hiding behind “ethereal digital projections” while committing the most earthly of betrayals: bad faith in pursuit of profit. This Court calls that what it is—bad faith, bad business, and bad vibes.
C. Damages
The SBA is entitled to expectation damages, reliance damages, and emotional distress damages for every 2L who already bought a costume matching their outline color scheme. But the real harm here is reputational: IX turned a beloved legal institution into a scheduling afterthought.
Should confused students show up at IX on the 31, they will be greeted not by a bar tab but by discarded tufts of faux fur and what one witness last year described as “a musk so tangible it violated local zoning laws.”
III. Ludwig Kuttner, Individually and in Spirit
We pause to address Ludwig Kuttner, the self-styled visionary behind IX Art Park. Mr. Kuttner’s long history of “philanthropy” in Charlottesville includes converting warehouses into “creative spaces,” which is German for “charging rent for vibes.” He presents himself as an “art patron,” though in practice, he is more of a contractual opportunist, oscillating between problematic landlord and cryptid of property management. The Court takes judicial notice that Ludwig Kuttner has spent more time litigating than most 2Ls have spent pretending to understand CivPro. See below.
While there is no direct evidence, this Court has unilaterally decided that the record does indeed suggest that Mr. Kuttner personally approved the Furry Festival, declaring that it “better represents the spirit of IX.” The spirit, apparently, being a blend of Middle-earth, but everyone’s divorced and on edibles and the faint odor of polyester fur baking in stage lights. We decline to let a man with such a history of creative contract interpretation lecture the SBA on scheduling. The doctrine of unclean hands applies: one cannot invoke equity when one’s own paws are dirty.
Accordingly, we find him jointly and severally liable for the vibe damages incurred.
IX. The “Veil of Dimensions” Defense
In its filings (and its website copy, which we judicially notice under the Doctrine of Cringe), IX Art Park invites the public to “step through the veil of dimensions” for “a day teeming with paranormal performances, enchanting cosplay, ethereal digital projections, magical vendors, hands-on artmaking, and celestial live music.”
This Court, having reviewed the photographic evidence, finds no veil, no enchantment, and precious little art. The “paranormal performances” consist primarily of off-duty bartenders and servers who are not competent enough to secure a Saturday night shift, juggling LED hula hoops. The “magical vendors” appear to be the same three guys who sell crystals at every Charlottesville farmers’ market. The “celestial live music” is, by stipulation, a DJ set from a man named “Lunar Dave.”
Counsel for IX argued that all proceeds “support the IX Art Park Foundation’s otherworldly mission.” The record, however, reveals that the Foundation’s mission is primarily to (1) enrich a man already rich enough to own a compound the size of a minor principality, and (2) unleash his ex-wife’s giant, off-leash dogs upon unsuspecting citizens at the IX Farmer’s Market, in what this Court deems an ongoing campaign of canine intimidation and spiritual malaise.
Subsequently, IX’s claim of an “otherworldly mission,” we must assume refers to Kuttner’s ongoing personal quest to transcend earthly notions of accountability. If “otherworldly” means “detached from both fiscal reality and moral gravity,” then yes—mission accomplished.
The Court is unpersuaded that “embracing one’s inner space cowboy” justifies breaching a valid contract. In the words of Restatement (Second) of Contracts § 205, parties must act in “good faith and fair dealing,” not “ethereal vibes and celestial gaslighting.”[1] The Court will however stipulate to the fact that “the interstellar spectacle Mirage the Mermaid” does look pretty cool.
IX’s “veil of dimensions” defense is therefore rejected as legally insufficient and aesthetically unforgivable.
IV.
This Court holds:
IX Art Park materially breached its contract with the SBA by reassigning the Halloqueen event to an earlier date.
Ludwig Kuttner is hereby declared an aesthetic nuisance under The Restatement (Second) of Torts § 821B.
The SBA is entitled to equitable relief in the form of exclusive use of IX Art Park on October 31, 2025, plus a doubling of the standard bar tab for SBA events—a $34 total bar tab.
The Furry Festival shall be relocated to literally any other day, possibly in February, when people are emotionally prepared for that kind of thing.
In closing, we note that this case reveals a deeper malaise. For decades, law students have relied on the sanctity of Halloqueen as a quasi-religious observance: a ritualistic shedding of inhibitions before midterms and breakdowns. By allowing IX Art Park to breach this sacred covenant in favor of furries, we risk collapsing the social fabric of the Law School itself. The damage here is not merely legal but metaphysical. The Court today rightly reaffirms the principle that contracts—like costumes—should not be taken off without consent.
So ordered.
Berklich, J., Dissenting.
The majority opinion engages in a string of logic all its own. The mere expectancy of performance does not make a contract. The Student Bar Association (SBA) unreasonably thought that their pattern of booking the IX Art Park (IX) entitled them to a presumptive contract. Alas, they are wrong. SBA should instead have presumed that IX would engage in a competitive bidding process when renting out their space. The fact that the intended date of the event fell on Halloween, a popular eve of ghoulish merriment, does not indicate increased reliance, but illustrates the deepness of SBA’s misconception that a competitive bidding process would not take place.
All the while, the Court engages in vitriolic disparagement of “furries.” No slippery plunge into the exact nature of these people need be made here, but following (slightly higher) Court doctrine, this group can be considered a “discrete and insular minority.” U.S. v. Carolene Products Co., 304 U.S. 144, 152 n.4 (1938). Here, of course, the shoe is on the other foot. The furries are the aggressors, and not the aggrieved. In that latter case, they ought to be afforded “more searching judicial inquiry.” However, here, it is not clear what they are owed—except perhaps a modicum of the Court’s pity, lest we forget what comes to those groups which, upon cruelty received, society turns a blind eye. See Pastor Martin Niemöller First They Came (1948). This justice is not convinced that, by signing on to this opinion, the Court would not uphold legislation directed against furries, motivated purely by animus.
I cannot help but suspect this ruling is motivated by prejudice toward our not-so-furry-but-perhaps-would-like-to-be-friends(?). But this has little to do with the fact that the gaps in the Court’s argument are as large as the space between the furries’ teeth. All the better to eat away your rights with, my dear.
Respectfully, I dissent.
[1] The court recognizes that celestial gaslighting may be the only truly appropriate form of gaslighting outside of early 1800s London, given the chemical composition of stars. No astronomers, physicists, or other interested party need comment on this footnote. Thank you.